


Poker

by naboru



Series: SG Protectobots [3]
Category: Transformers: Shattered Glass
Genre: Implied Medical Experimentation, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:27:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naboru/pseuds/naboru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hot Spot is annoyed, and tries to find some respect and a way to let off some steam.</p>
<p>PG-13 // gen, implied medical experimentation, implied smut and violence // Hot Spot, Streetwise</p>
<p><b>Note:</b> This is part of the Disillusion AU. Streetwise is incapable of having emotions whose origin is kinda explained in <a href="http://lost-carcosa.livejournal.com/42186.html">Empty</a>. It’s set directly after <a href="http://moebiusschleife.livejournal.com/25711.html">Unexpected</a>, but understandable of its own.<br/>It’s my first attempt writing SG!Hot Spot for the Disillusion AU.</p>
<p><b>Beta:</b> <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty">Ultharkitty</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Poker

**Continuity:** Shattered Glass (Disillusion AU)  
 **Disclaimer:** Sadly, I own nothing.  
 **Prompt:** Shattered Glass - Hot Spot/Streetwise - Silence

 

**Poker**

Hot Spot glared after Blades when the ‘copter left the room. He resisted firing after him, because it’d only be a waste of energy and combustive agent.

This ‘copter would need to learn to pay Hot Spot some respect.

The gestalt leader left his office, and walked quickly through the corridors. Maybe he could ask First Aid if he’d have a substance that ensured better obedience. Then he frowned. But perhaps this wasn’t a good idea, considering what the medic had done to Streetwise…

And speaking of Streetwise - said mech sat in the rec-room, looming over his energon cube, stared at nothing.

A handful of credits for the numb mech’s thoughts.

The mech had never been hot tempered, but since that slaggin’ drug addict had tinkered with his circuits, he was like a drone.

Streetwise looked up in a swift movement. Empty optics fixed on Hot Spot, and the commander suppressed a shudder. His silence was annoying.

“What?” Hot Spot spat, clenching his hand to a fist.

Streetwise kept quiet.

The fire truck’s engine revved to a growl, and he raised his hand, the flame-thrower pipes on his arm pointing at the other’s face.

They both knew Hot Spot could adjust the setting and create a flame hot enough to melt metal, but Streetwise didn’t even flinch.

Of course he didn’t. He’d have to be scared, but since that accident, or whatever it was First Aid had done to him, Streetwise wasn’t scared any more.

He didn’t feel fear. He couldn’t feel anything, to be precise. At least nothing that was not physical.

Streetwise was another candidate that would have to learn some respect. An issue that couldn’t be solved, however, not until he was fixed.

“You’re going to fire, or not?” the sports car asked, the voice as blank as his stare.

“Do you want me to fire?” Hot Spot sill could goad him into a reaction.

They looked at each other for another klik, the silence grating on Hot Spot. He knew Streetwise was searching, for words and memories of what was an appropriate reaction to this. And he knew what Streetwise most likely would come up with. It made up for the annoying blankness.

The smaller mech opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Hot Spot smirked. “You’re silence frags me off,” he growled, helping.

“You can change it.”

“And I’m going to. In three kliks in my office, or next time I will fire.” The fire truck said.

He turned, seeing Streetwise nod in his peripheral vision.

Hot Spot grinned triumphantly. At least one mech he had under control.


End file.
